Her name is Bailey, but it should have been Bluto.

You remember John “Bluto” Blutarsky, John’s Belushi’s character from “National Lampoon’s Animal House?” He spent seven years at Faber College as the life of the party, but never quite perfected his academics. So it is with Bailey, our lifetime dog class attendee.

Bailey is a purebred American Shelter Dog. Adopted from the Tri-Lakes Humane Society, she came from a hoarding situation with a host of other dogs of varying sizes, ages, and body types. Our best guess at her genetic makeup is husky-hound. If we are correct, this would explain her high prey drive, her stubbornness, and her need to run. If we are wrong, then we will need some other way to rationalize her actions.

Bailey and I began classes with the local dog club on a hopeful note. Agility dog, therapy dog, class valedictorian — my aspirations were high. Bailey was attentive, sitting and lying down reliably … for the first 15 minutes of class. Then, without warning, she’d bow, howl and zoom around me at warp speed. A tornado, a Whirling Dervish, or the Tasmanian Devil had nothing on her. Bailey tangled me in her leash, spilled water and ecstatically created a one-dog party. We’d escape to the yard, give her a time out, and return to finish out class calmly. Me sheepishly, Bailey with all the joyful exuberance of a new day.

By then, I emphasized with every parent of every unruly child. Bailey and I had a special seat by the door, since other dog parents didn’t want their pups seated by mine. People wouldn’t make eye contact with me outside of class, and when one finally did, I wished she hadn’t.

“Where did you get that dog?” inquired Petunia Pedigree’s Parent.

“The shelter,” I answered, oblivious to the judgment that was to come.

“How old was she?”

“Five months.”

“That’s too old. What breed?”

“I don’t know, maybe husky, maybe some hound.” I was less confident now.

“The worst,” she snorted and walked away.

In the eyes of that dog parent, Bailey was nothing but a bad influence. But to me, she was my loveable girl. Under this woman’s scrutiny though, I flip-flopped between being a mama bear and wanting to slink away with my tail between my legs.

However true to the legacy of Bluto, we wouldn’t give up. Recalling his immortal words as Bluto rallied upon the impending closure of Delta house, “Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! …” And so we fought on. We did our homework. We joined the club and practiced all of our skills. Just like Bluto’s muddled historical references, Bailey would perform her skills perfectly … then ecstatically leap and attack her leash.

I could see Bailey’s progress; the instructors could see her progress. Barb, Sally, Doreen, Deb — they all patiently offered strategies and insights. Some worked, others were epic failures. Inevitably, whenever I was confident Bailey was no longer the class clown … her brain would chant “Toga, Toga, Toga” and her one-dog party would begin.

What kept us coming back? Sharon Bishop.

In school there is always that amazing kid, the one who reaches out to the ostracized. And in this case, it was Sharon Bishop, The Dog Lady. While her motivation was likely to teach her Sheltie to ignore our distractions, Sharon always took the station next to ours with a kind word of encouragement. She was my emotional life jacket when I just wanted to stop swimming. With her assistance, Bailey and I would doggy paddle to the end — improving but never quite making the grade.

The end notes of Animal House state that John Blutarsky went on to become a U.S. Senator despite his academic failings. Apparently his gregarious nature, his dubious sense of judgment, and his parents’ money set him up for success.

Likewise, some of the most interesting adults I know were terrible students. Let’s face it, these free spirits are just plain fun to be around. And Bailey follows in their footsteps. She is a great running partner, ski buddy and shoe hider. She is a good travel companion, an affectionate family member, and a tonic for a bad day.

Adolescent Dog, Canine Companion I, Clicker Class, and Hiking with Your Dog — Bailey has attended more classes than all my previous dogs combined. She should be a scholar. Instead, she is an indifferent student, never a graduate, but always fun.

She is Bluto.